


To Kiss an Angel

by Beecause, Shea67



Series: To Kiss an Angel 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, destielharlequinchallenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 11:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11668506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beecause/pseuds/Beecause, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shea67/pseuds/Shea67
Summary: Dean Winchester, the rich and spoiled young man that he is, and Castiel Novak, the shady son of a mob boss, are arranged to be married. If Castiel, as handsome as he is blunt, is the worst of Dean’s problems, then perhaps he could live a decent life. Sadly, that doesn’t stay the case for very long.





	To Kiss an Angel

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to post this on the 15th. Whoops. Thank you so much to the moderators of this challenge who showed me a great amount of kindness and patience. I really appreciate it. :')
> 
> A special thanks goes out to my best friend, who helped make this fic what it is. I couldn't have done it without her.
> 
> Here was my original prompt: Wedding Day Pretty, flighty Daisy Devreaux can either go to jail or marry the mystery man her father has chosen for her. Arranged marriages don't happen in the modern world, so how did the irrepressible Daisy find herself in this fix? Alex Markov, as humorless as he is deadly handsome, has no intention of playing the loving bridegroom to a spoiled little feather-head with champagne tastes. He drags Daisy from her uptown life to a broken down traveling circus and sets out to tame her to his ways. But this man without a soul has met his match in a woman who's nothing but heart. Before long, passion will send them flying sky high without a safety net... risking it all in search of a love that will last forever.

Dean Winchester led a fairly comfortable life. Or at least, he used to. Before the circus, before the torrent of blue-eyed misery that ensued after the… _arrangement_. Well, perhaps it would be easier to start from the beginning. Not the beginning of his life, no, but the beginning of his tale. His life prior to these events was quite dull and incredibly unremarkable. Even as a child, spoiled and rich, he didn’t do very much and had never worked a day in his life. He sometimes explored the family estate, or went on trips into the city on a whim if he felt like doing so. As a child, he learned to ride horseback around the yard, but mostly, he buried his nose in novels, got lost in tales of adventure and exploration while he sat in the same bedroom for nearly twenty years. The stories changed, but his scenery never did. 

Unbeknownst to him, it all started on the evening of August 12th, just a quarter after eleven o’clock. The air was thick and stagnant, the kind of weather that made one toss and turn all night long, unable to shake the sweat that lingered on their skin and soddened their nightshirts so horribly that it was a task to peel off. It left him unable to find any sense of relief from the humid heat of the day that refused to dissipate even as night fell. Tonight was one of those nights. Dean knew that he wouldn’t be getting very much sleep in the first place, so it wasn't a bother nor a shock when he was wide awake in the late hours of the night. The late afternoon and nighttime hours gave him plenty of peaceful quiet to finish reading his array of novels. During the day, he could very well be disrupted by his family. During the night, the only sounds not made by him shifting or turning the page were the chirps of crickets and cicadas that played like a never ending symphony outside his bedroom window, melding with the ever-quiet whispers of the willow trees out in the yard. 

A cup of steaming tea decorated by soft cerulean blue china sat undisturbed on the light-stained oak of Dean’s cluttered nightstand. The bed creaked as Dean pushed off the hot comforter and sheets with a quiet grunt, eventually too warm to carry on reading while trapped beneath them. Sam’s frayed copy of _The Keeper of the Bees_ sat open on his lap, the spine so worn that it didn’t even try to close on itself. It just stayed. Typically at this time, after dinner hours and when everyone was settled into bed, Dean could be left undisturbed for hours. Luckily for him, tonight was one of those nights, too. 

*** 

Robert Singer acted as the groundskeeper of the Winchester estate, and over the years he became a family friend; a mentor of sorts. As the boys grew into adulthood and he grew into his fifties, he tried to encourage Dean to pursue adventures and indulged Sam by letting him ramble on about his interests of becoming a scholar. Their fairly negative father, John, scolded Sam for not having any obvious or practical aspirations. Bobby at least tried to help the boys grow. He attempted to teach Dean about how to fix things if something broke, how to manage one’s self in the case of survival, but the eldest Winchester son seemed less than eager to learn. When would he ever need skills like that, when he was constantly at home and protected from the elements? Dean guessed that he would never travel twenty miles from their estate. If he did, it would be in years to come, and by then he would have himself a wife and a few boys and a groundskeeper of his own to take care of the place while Sam was off at school.

If only his future was something he had a choice in. 

“So, where exactly am I meant to meet this woman?” Dean asked cautiously as he looked to his father, who was nervously pouring himself yet another generous glass of bourbon. His hands became more noticeably unsteady as he held the glass up to his lips. He avoided looking at Dean, as though he were ashamed for... bartering his oldest son. _Which he should be, of course,_ Dean thought bitterly. Upon his father’s silence, he spoke again. 

“Is she pretty?” He asked, brows furrowed ever-so-slightly as he passed the pool table and approached his father. Despite his efforts, he was transparent to the eyes of others, his emotions too strong and too difficult to hide. He knew that John would recognise his frustration; his anger. First, his father made him work for a whole week to get the estate together since Singer’s back hurt too much for him to do it all, and now that John was done using his son as a _free laborer_ , he was going to marry him off to some woman he had never even met? 

“What’s her name, at least?” He asked in an attempt to get _any_ answers, but John just continued to avoid his son’s onslaught of questions. Here Dean was, thinking that he was going to remain at home for the vast majority of his lifetime and live a life of leisure, but that false sense of security was ripped away from him. He was going to travel for God knows how long with one of John’s enemies; whom of which he lost a bet with and owed a fortune to. Or rather, owed _Dean_ to. While the Winchester family was a rich one, John wasn’t willing to sacrifice a penny of his wealth to someone and risk losing his estate. John had two sons, and it seemed one too many. 

John was about to pour himself another glass when he decided to finally answer Dean. “Your betrothed… Cassie, will come to the estate tomorrow morning to pick you up.” He hiccuped before taking another drink, already feeling a warm buzz in his stomach. Again, John did not mention the gender. Dean noticed, but had no idea what to make of it. John was just a drunken fool sometimes. Most times. 

“Why is _she_ coming to get _me_?” He asked, jaw locking up as he fought back his anger. “Can’t I just go to her? I’m capable of travelling on my own. I can take my yearling filly Impala and bring her with us, since we’ll be coming back afterwards to live here. I doubt my bride would mind.”

“You won’t take _our_ filly,” John said sternly. He didn’t love Impala as greatly as Dean, but he couldn’t risk Dean running away when he learned the truth. “You’re traveling with your betrothed. On the road. You won’t be coming back here again.” 

Dean stilled, his face growing as white as a sheet. Now he truly felt betrayed. Not only was being ripped from his hometown to live with an utter stranger, and not even his favorite horse was going to be a part of his life, but he wasn't allowed to even return. His heart seemed to skip, his pulse climbed with his fear, and his stomach did an uncomfortable flip that made him feel on the urge of vomiting. He leaned against the wall as his gaze blurred as his eyes welled with tears. 

In that moment, Sam chose to emerge from his hiding spot by the staircase, where he was eavesdropping on the conversation. He seemed just as heartbroken as his older brother. “Dad, you can’t do this,” he protested, ready to knock the glass from John’s trembling hand. “There has to be some kind of alternative. Whatever debt you have, let us help --”

“No!” John snapped, whirling around to smack Sam across the face. “It’s not that simple. Neither of you boys understand the situation, you don’t realize what I’ve sacrificed to give you all of these opportunities --”

“ _Your_ sacrifice? What about Dean? He’s not an object that you can throw out when you no longer need it, dad. You haven’t sacrificed a damn thing for us.” Sam glared just as fiercely at John as he clutched his cheek, and then an argument broke out. John’s voice was slurred and he threw things around, breaking his glass of bourbon and causing even more chaos in the living room. 

Dean didn’t want to hear anymore of their fighting, and he couldn’t find it in him to get caught in the middle of it while trying to help Bobby break the fight up. So, he went upstairs with his head hanging low and his shoulders slumped with defeat. Dean felt exhausted, used, and most of all like he wasn’t good enough to be John’s son. He knew nothing about his new wife, was fearful of traveling somewhere beyond the perimeter of the nearby town, and he was more distraught than ever before. As he began to pack his things, he dropped a photo of himself with his mother Mary and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Nothing was going to be the same for him once he left. 

He didn’t bother to fold his clothes or keep his packing tidy. Dean didn’t have to _really_ impress anyone, after all, so he simply threw things into his bags that he thought he might need during the journey and after his arrival. He scribbled out a note of farewell to Sam and folded it up to give to him in the morning, and then he chose some of his favorite books and novels to take with him. However long the trek might be, Dean knew that books could always take his mind off of the things that bothered him or made him feel empty on the inside. 

Dean didn’t sleep, and the night was similar to the past weeks’: humid and unforgiving. He tossed and turned and kicked off his sheets with his feet. Irritable and gross, Dean took a bath and scrubbed himself clean as soon as the sun rose. He shaved and put on his best (albeit wrinkled) clothes, being sure to smell decent and look partially presentable. He wanted to _attempt _to look the part. He wasn’t going to have Sam see him sulk away, and it was a... courtesy for the lady he would be spending the rest of his life with. Maybe she didn’t have a choice either and her father married her off too. Dean didn’t know.__

__He also didn’t know what she looked like, or shared any of his passions. Although, if she didn't look like his typical crush or share any of his interests, he didn't mind. Just a few weeks ago, if you asked Dean what he wanted in a partner, he would have said someone who complemented his personality and was loyal to him, and someone who didn’t mind how much he read books instead of being a complete brute without any brains at all. Although currently, he figured now wasn't the time to be picky. _‘Won't kill me’_ seemed to be number one on his list of attributes. _ _

__As he descended the staircase and lugged his two heavy bags behind him (one full of books and photos and another full of clothes), Dean grew weary and anxious, his thoughts lingering on his soon-to-be bride that he would be legally tied to. Afterall, what would happen if he left her in the middle of the night? Would they come for him? Come for John and Sam? His knowledge of the family Cassie belonged to was based solely on newspaper articles and rumors. Dean waited by the front door when he heard Sam bounding down the stairs, still dressed in his nightshirt. The two brothers hugged tightly and Dean did his best not to burst into tears. He had to be strong. There wasn’t another option._ _

__“Don’t worry about me, Sammy,” he said, handing him the little goodbye note that he had written the night before. “I’ll come home soon, you’ll see. We’ll write back and forth in the meantime. I’ll tell you all about my adventures with my wife. And don't give up your studies; keep going.” He ruffled Sam’s dark mop of hair and had the decency to chuckle before he continued his nervous rambling. “And get that haircut, you hear me? You’re starting to look like a girl. Promise you’ll take care of my Baby?”_ _

__Sam laughed a little through his tears and batted Dean’s hands away. “Whatever, jerk. I’ll take good care of Impala while you’re gone. I can’t believe dad is...” He paused, not wanting to spoil their farewell with the mention of the fight that had broken out that previous night or the fate that was about to befall Dean. For that reason, he changed the tone and make it lighter. “I’m leaving my hair how it is. I know you love it.”_ _

__“I really don’t,” Dean teased, thankful for the change in conversation. That fight and the woman he was about to leave with was a can of worms that he didn’t want to open at that particular moment. “I think I might sneak back home and cut it myself.”_ _

__“Is that your ride?” Sam asked, his smile rapidly disappearing as he heard the sound of hooves thumping on the ground. He wiped at his eyes and looked up at his older, departing brother miserably. “It looks like your bride-to-be is really wealthy. Maybe wealthier than us. At least you’ll be in good hands, right?”_ _

__Dean swallowed thickly and stared at the approaching carriage with three white horses in front. “Right,” he reassured Sam, dread sinking in his stomach as though he had swallowed a rock. “Well, um… visit for the ceremony, if you can. I’ll write,” Dean said awkwardly. He gave Sam another quick hug, just because it was breaking his heart to leave his baby brother behind like this._ _

__As Dean turned to leave, he felt a hand on his shoulder. At first he thought it was his father, but instead it was Bobby. The old man pulled him into a tight hug as well, just to say goodbye. It felt like Dean had become his son over the years. “You're real brave. Your mom would be proud, boy,” Bobby said gruffly, trying to hold back his tears. He handed Dean his favorite whiskey flask and pulled away, guiding Sam inside. Neither of them wanted to see Dean go._ _

__Sucking in a breath, Dean walked down the steps to his house and toward the carriage. He opened the door and paused, surprised to find that his betrothed was not in it waiting for him. At first he thought it was a joke, but the driver looked back at him expectantly to get in. So, Dean climbed in, stuffed his two bags in the seat across from him, and sat down for the long ride ahead. He shed a few tears as they pulled away from his old home, and more as it became a mere speck behind them. As the minutes ticked by after he let himself cry, he become even more nervous than before. He was going to have to wait who knows how long until he would find out who he was supposed to marry._ _

__Hours passed and his legs started to become numb and uncomfortable. They had only made one stop to water the horses, and by now it had to be at least twelve hours after their departure from the Winchester estate. Before he could get the driver’s attention and ask him to pull over for a minute so he could stretch his legs, they abruptly stopped. Dean looked out the window and was admittedly surprised to find an inviting cottage on a hill, just along the cobblestone road the driver was on. The house was not overly extravagant like the Winchester mansion, but it was clear that the main value of the property was the land. Tall oak trees seemed to frame the soft dirt path that lead up to the house. Dean grabbed both of his bags, climbed out, and glanced back at the driver to ask if this was where his fiancée was supposed to be, but the driver took off._ _

__A quiet breeze ruffled through Dean’s hair and cut through his clothes, which made him shiver. It was already beginning to get dark outside and the sun painted the sky a series of golden tones. He figured the only thing he could do at that point was follow the path up the hill, so he hefted his bags better over his shoulders and he started the trek. Since he never explored the vast property of his past home, and the land stretched further here, Dean was a little breathless when he made it to the top. Upon closer inspection, the cottage was very beautiful -- almost like one of the homes in his fantasy books. Vines crawled up the sides of the white stucco, and dark, stained cedar wood framed the structure. He went to the door and composed himself before knocking a few times._ _

__It didn’t seem too terrible so far. Leaving his family behind was the only way he suffered, so perhaps he was lucky. Maybe not all mobsters were bad people, and he could go back home and visit Sam and Bobby whenever he wanted to. Maybe he was going to have a lot of adventures with his wife, and eventually a few kids to keep him young. As the door swung open, Dean looked up sharply from his shoes and his nervous green eyes collided with calm blue ones._ _

__“Come in,” came the man’s deep voice as he opened the door a little wider, revealing a larger peek of the inside of the cottage. An expensive, patterned rug adorned the polished wooden floors, and there was a modest staircase tucked away toward the back of the home. Dean presumed that he was the owner of the home, or perhaps his bride-to-be’s older brother._ _

__“Hi, uh… I'm Dean.” He informed him, thinking it would be proper to shake hands or have a brief talk before he would meet his fiancée, seeing as how they would become... family after the wedding. As he held out a confident right hand, he managed to get a closer look at the strange man who seemed to enjoy hiding in the entryway._ _

__“I know.” The man said, looking a tad confused as he shook Dean's hand and let him step inside. When Dean passed the threshold, he noticed a few other knick knacks that seemed to capture his attention more than his fiancée’s presumed brother. Wooden clocks, stained glass, and fine vases made the house’s character interesting and also quite humble. “The door at the end of the hall, on the left; that's where you should bring your things. Dinner will be done in a few minutes.”_ _

__Dean was thankful that he said that, because the weight of his bags were really starting to strain his shoulders. Books were not exactly a light object to carry around, and neither was a lifetime’s supply of clothing. He nodded his head in thanks and went straight to the end of the hallway, wondering if his bride was residing somewhere on the floor above him. As he passed by the door, he snuck a glance at his fiancée’s brother and noticed a few things that reassured him. One: his bride was going to be _gorgeous_ if she was related to him. Two: the house was incredible. Three: he was going to be dining well, and good food was a comforting thought. _ _

__He pushed open the door to his bedroom and realized that his room was probably the biggest one in the entire house, and it seemed as though someone was already going to be living in it with him. The bed was massive and had four long posts, and there was a fine curtain that went around the entire edge of the mattress so that he and his wife could get privacy if need be. The doors had no locks on them, after all. He didn't ask why. Everything about the room was stunning, and the view was even better. While many people normally chose to have their bedrooms on the top floor, the owner of the home seemed to prefer bottom floors. Again, he didn't ask why. It seemed that his wife bought him some clothes, although he wasn't sure what possessed her to._ _

__Once Dean collected himself and prepared to see his wife, he went to the dining room and sat down at the empty table, twiddling distractedly with his thumbs and watching the flame flicker on one of the candles. It was a stunning setup. Dean took a sip from his glass of wine and he glanced up when he noticed the same strange man as before enter the scene with two steaming plates. Perhaps he wasn’t his wife’s brother after all; he was a servant for the house. It was a great explanation for how physically fit he seemed._ _

__As the blue-eyed man set two plates on the table and sat across from him with a napkin in his lap, Dean cleared his throat, obviously confused. “Um, excuse me,” he began, glancing at the entrance of the dining room. “Do you know when my fiancée will be down? I would love to meet her. Cassie, I mean. Surely she won’t be skipping dinner this evening?” Dean seemed confused as he asked the questions, one after another._ _

__“Your wife?” The man echoed, both of his eyebrows raised as if he was surprised that Dean did not already know what the situation was. “You’re looking for your wife Cassie?”_ _

__“Yes. She takes residence here,” Dean answered, like it was the silliest inquiry he had ever heard. He seemed amused and like he was getting tricked. He understood now; her brother was trying to test his patience._ _

__The man chuckled a little and cut into his steak. “I think you mean me. Castiel. Your husband to be a short time from now.” He explained in a careful tone, his brows furrowed a little as he slowly set down his knife and fork on his plate. “I was wondering why I wasn’t greeted with a kiss; no one ever told you, did they?”_ _

__Dean was so shocked that he dropped his glass of wine and it fell onto the floor, shattering and leaving a mess on both his clothes and the hardwood. He gaped at his soon-to-be _husband_ like a goldfish, helplessly looking into his eyes to find the faintest hint that he was joking or lying. When he saw neither in Castiel’s facial expression, his gaze lowered to the fancy white tablecloth and he suddenly became very still in his chair. After attempting not to hyperventilate three separate times, Dean gave up and began to breathe raggedly. _ _

__Oddly enough, Castiel seemed to have detected his attack of shock ahead of time and he quickly stood up from his chair, cooly approaching him and crouching at his side. He pressed a firm hand to Dean’s shoulder and squeezed it, attempting to calm him down with careful rubs and his soothing, low voice that made him shiver. “Are you okay?”_ _

__“I’m fine,” Dean snapped after a moment. He was a grown man, and he didn’t need to be babied like this. He didn’t appreciate the hand on his body, but he didn’t pull away either. His mind went straight to Sam, Bobby, and his dad, no matter how much he resented his old man at that moment. If this marriage failed, there would undoubtedly be consequences. Right then, Dean knew in his heart that he needed to accept that the rest of his life was going to be spent with the man next to him, or he never would. He closed his eyes. “I just… need a moment to… collect my thoughts,” he said too quickly, pushing his chair back. Before he even knew where he was going, he was making his way to the… their bedroom. That explained the clothes, he supposed._ _

__Castiel watched him go with a guarded look and decided to go ahead and clean the wine from the floor, knowing that it would be better for the new information to sink into Dean’s head before he did or said anything further. He heard the door close, but that would not prevent him from going into the room to check on his fiancé since there were no locks on the doors. As the last of the glass was taken care of, Castiel approached the door and found Dean sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. “The best cure for disappointment is a meal that’s still warm.”_ _

__Dean looked up suddenly and glared at him at first, but then his eyes softened. He was still freaked out about the whole thing, but right now a steak sounded really good to him. If it had been a salad, then he would have remained where he was. With a deep sigh, Dean slid off of the bed and went to the door where Castiel was waiting for him. Castiel kept his distance as they walked back to the dining room, and for that Dean was grateful. He sucked in a slow breath and resumed his place at the table. “I would’ve cleaned up the mess.” He muttered, starting to cut up his steak._ _

__“No need. You’re going to need your strength for tomorrow.” Castiel said, sipping from his glass. He seemed so calm about everything, which got on Dean’s nerves but also intrigued him. The Winchester had no idea exactly who he was. The only thing he really knew is that he knew his father somehow. Dean figured if he focused on getting to know his intended husband, then he would be less focused on the fact that they were going to have a legal, romantic relationship._ _

__All Dean knew was that he was _not_ going to be sucking faces with another man._ _

__“What's tomorrow?” Dean wondered absently after he chewed a bite of his meal, actually enjoying it. If there was one person that Dean vigorously sought after, it was a good cook. The whole marriage deal couldn’t possibly be completely unbearable with meals like this. As someone had once said, food was the way to a man’s heart. Dean wasn’t sure how willing he was to jump right to an instant acceptance of the groom, but this was a start. A small one, but a start nonetheless._ _

__“You’ll see,” Castiel said, smiling around a forkful of his potatoes. “But if you’re going to lose sleep over it, I suppose I’ll give you a hint. It’s in the backyard. Don’t go peeking around, it’s meant to be a surprise.” He set down his fork to get more wine, meeting Dean’s eyes for a brief moment. It only ended when Dean was the first to look away._ _

__***_ _

__Dinner truly wasn't as bad as it could have been, despite the when Dean spilled wine all over the floor and left the table to freak out in their bedroom. It was actually the worst first impression that he could have had of himself in front of Castiel, but he could cope with that. After all, it had been a horrifying discovery that he was going to be getting married to some guy instead of a woman, which he had only heard of happening once in his childhood town. Dean really was trying to make the most of it, though; to be decent to Castiel. After all, the guy had been nothing but kind and even cooked this meal all for him. It was thoughtful and it earned Castiel a few early brownie points, so he wanted to try to be nice back to get some points of his own._ _

__“There's a guest bedroom if that would make you more comfortable,” Castiel informed Dean as he began to stack up their dirty dishes and carry them over to the sink. He seemed content with doing the dirty work around the house, which was just another little thing that Dean appreciated about him so far._ _

__“N-no, that's quite alright. I'll share a bed with you.” Dean said, smiling wearily as he handed Castiel his dishes. The last thing he wanted to do was put a ‘friends only’ label on their marriage. That would not sit well when they were at the alter. A stiff kiss on the cheek wasn't exactly something grand to receive on one’s wedding day. Dean wondered if he was ever going to get a ring to wear, or if guys wore rings at all when they got married. He knew that he was being a little ridiculous and rude and _very_ ignorant, but he couldn’t help it. His whole idea of what a marriage should be was totally turned around. _ _

__Castiel gave a tight smile in return, and it seemed that neither of them knew what to do. A guy like Dean and a guy... like Castiel was simply a horrible mix in the first place. Dean thought Castiel was a pretty great person all around, and he wasn’t totally horrible to look at. That led Dean to ponder on the idea of whether or not he was attracted to men, which was something that he had never even considered before. There was an awkward silence for a few moments because of Dean’s excessive thinking and worrying. He came to the conclusion that no, he wasn't. The only way he would survive his wedding night was if he closed his eyes and pretended to be with a woman. Unless Castiel was… He tried not to think about it._ _

__“I'll, um… be in bed, then. See you in a few moments, Castiel.” Dean said, attempting to be cordial. His chair scraped loudly on the floor as he pushed away from the table and quickly walked down the hallway. He hastily disrobed and pulled on a nightshirt, only trying to hurry so that he could get dressed without the eyes of a man... of a stranger on him. Dean tucked himself into Castiel’s -- well, _their_ \-- bed and continued to read Sam’s weathered book, _The Keeper of the Bees_ , by the light of an oil lamp. He was scooted on the very end of the bed, almost to a point where he may fall off._ _

__Eventually, Castiel joined Dean and changed clothes with his back to the other man; to which Dean pointedly looked at his book and didn't dare glance upwards at his momentarily nude form. The bed dipped as Castiel crawled under the sheets beside Dean and turned off the lamp on his side of the bed, closing his tired eyes with a deep sigh._ _

__Dean took the hint and turned off his own lamp, setting his book aside despite the fact that he had only progressed a two pages. “Goodnight,” he said quietly, laying with his back to Castiel as he remained stiff and unmoving on the edge of the bed. Castiel still gave Dean a decent berth of space, at least a solid two feet. “Goodnight,” Castiel repeated back to Dean, sighing a little as he rolled to get more comfortable and relaxed into the mattress._ _

__Despite the fact that Dean felt so uncomfortable; his exhaustion from his past sleepless night and long carriage travel won out, and he fell asleep within minutes._ _

__When Dean awoke the next morning to the feeling of Castiel's body pressed against his back, his strong arms lazily wrapped around his waist, he panicked. He squirmed a little and managed to escape his fiancé’s grasp, but found that freedom wasn’t worth it as fell onto the hard wooden floor with a thump. Castiel's expression as he peered down at Dean didn't seem… malicious, though. Just tired and confused, likely because Dean's struggle had woken him. “Sorry.” Dean said meekly._ _

__Castiel just sighed and rolled to the other side of the bed, getting up. “It's alright. Get dressed; I would like to show you the backyard now.” He said, voice rough with sleep. He padded over to his dresser and got dressed right there, not minding an audience if he had one._ _

__Dean glanced away and huffed a little. Since he was very rarely told what to do (except for by his dad or on rare occasion, Bobby) and he didn't exactly appreciate it coming from Castiel, some guy he just met yesterday. He listened to what he said, though, since it seemed stupid to argue about something that was supposed to be a surprise. It just wasn't worth it._ _

__He dressed himself once he had privacy, still living out of his suitcase, and before long he was guided by Castiel out the back door and along a path of stepping stones. Dean smiled faintly at Castiel and let him lead the way. The path led slightly uphill, which Dean found exhausting while Castiel seemed unaffected. Perhaps he made this walk quite often. Dean couldn't help but wonder what awaited them. Still, the infinite rows of beautiful purple grapes stunned him. “You… have a vineyard?” He asked, obviously astonished by both the view and the realization that the wine he had drank the previous night might have come from this vineyard itself._ _

__Castiel smiled a bit and nodded. “Yes, it's a wonderfully calming hobby. I was hoping you would pick grapes with me before the sun is overhead?” He didn’t mean to make Dean work or take advantage of his labor; all he wanted was to have a chance to bond with his future husband. Doing something repetitive like harvesting crops seemed to help Castiel calm down and get his thoughts in one place. Perhaps it would help Dean too._ _

__They spent the morning picking grapes and idly chatting. Castiel asked simple things about Dean's carriage ride over; how his previous estate differed from this, et cetera. During the afternoon, Dean ate a few grapes while Castiel made them toasted sandwiches for lunch, and after eating they returned to work at the miniature vineyard. All in all, Castiel seemed… normal. The day put Dean at ease as Castiel had hoped. Perhaps this wouldn't be so terrible after all. Right? Cas wasn't… a bad person or anything. He seemed to be good._ _

__That night, they ate dinner on the back porch in two white wicker chairs, gazing at the setting sun and sipping more wine. This was surprisingly nice. A life Dean could really get used to. In fact, he pictured himself being far more happy with Castiel than with Cassie. It seemed like they could form a lasting… friendship._ _

__***_ _

__As the weeks continued to pass and they started to get to know more information about one another, Dean surprisingly adapted to his new circumstances. He missed everyone terribly, but Cas wasn't awful company. Quite the opposite, really. He always cooked and kept hosie tidy, and never made Dean feel unsafe. He leaned on Dean when he would read the paper; and eventually; he would touch his thigh when they sat or ate together. At first, Dean would pull away, but he became accustomed to it after awhile. Let Cas touch him in a relatively innocent spot. He never tried to escalate things, and his hands were warm and soft, so it wasn't _that_ bad. _ _

__***  
The ceremony happened on a Friday evening, a time when family and friends from either side could have shown up to wish them well (even with their busy schedules). They had sent out invitations weeks in advance, and two people out of the twenty nine RSVP’d. However, many of the chairs that had been set out were empty, save for three or four. Dean supposed that they were right not to come; there was no dad to walk him down the aisle - just Bobby. (In fact, Bobby was the only one he knew that was there.) there was also no wedding dress to gawk at; despite the fact that he wore white on his wedding day, perhaps it was simply not good enough or worth someone to travel for. When Dean threw back the bouquet, no one was even there to catch it. The cake, however, seemed to be a hit. Everyone who came to the wedding ate about three or four slices because it was so good. Cas had made it himself, which made Dean a bit proud. While Dean wasn’t a huge fan of cake, he found himself eating multiple slices as well. _ _

__Despite the cake’s success, it was not like a normal wedding was supposed to be. Their families weren't tipsy and congratulating them with wide smiles and open arms. Of the guests that arrived, each gave them a meek or half-hearted congratulations, ate their cake, and left. Dean felt a soft pain in his chest for the others like them. Others like Castiel, really. Dean would have chosen to marry a woman, but he didn't think Cas would. No matter what man he married, this disappointing fate would always remain his reality._ _

__Dean remembered at the altar, when he stood across from Castiel and was forced to kiss him. Well, technically he wasn’t forced. Cas even told him beforehand that he didn't have to. Admittedly, he he had been a little curious to see what it would be like to kiss him, so that was why he had done it. And he didn't want to ruin the day even more for Castiel, either, and he couldn’t just tell him no when he had bought Dean such a beautiful ring to wear and let Dean pick out the decorations for the wedding._ _

__They spent the night at home, drunk and giggling over seemingly nothing as they told stories and leaned on one another. Dean was the first to fall asleep, and Castiel quickly followed suit._ _

__***_ _

__Castiel laid in bed with the letter in his lap three weeks after they got married, his hands shaking ever so subtly. “Cas? What's wrong?” Dean asked quietly, setting down his book as he laid beside Castiel. They now began to sleep closer to each other ever since the marriage, and sometimes their sides brushed. Castiel seemed hesitate before shifting a little closer to him on the mattress. “My father died last week.” He said, voice but a murmur._ _

__Dean’s heart instantly went out to him. He felt so much pity for him, because although he had not gotten the chance to really know Castiel’s father at the wedding, the man had still showed up to give them his half-hearted blessing. Meanwhile, Dean’s father had not been there at all. “Oh, Cas, I'm so sorry… I can't begin to imagine what you--”_ _

__Castiel shook his head, cutting Dean off with a little gesture of his hand. “I'm not saddened by this, I'm scared. He wasn't a good man, Dean.” He said quietly. “But my brother Michael is even worse, and now he’s the… leader, so to speak.”_ _

__“He's a mob guy, right?” Dean asked after a moment. It would make sense, because Dean’s father had gotten in trouble with the mob. Which was way he was here, married to Castiel, in the first place. He had been promised to the guy, practically._ _

__Castiel nodded a little and pursed his lips, seemingly with nothing more to say to Dean. His blue eyes were pointedly focused on the wall of their bedroom, ashamed that his family was so bad. He began to think that Dean would picture Castiel turning into a horrible mob member too, which he didn’t like. Castiel wanted Dean to picture him as a good guy, because that was what he tried so hard to be._ _

__“Why aren't you?” Dean asked suddenly. “I mean, a part of the mob business? I thought it was a family thing, where the mob career was passed down to the next generation?”_ _

__“I was. I just… don't want to be part of that life anymore. All that death, pain, and chaos. And for what? Some money? To make children cry when you walk by them on the street? It's not worth all the lives you destroy. Nothing is worth it. I can’t follow in my father’s footsteps when he’s on the path for hell.”_ _

__Castiel turned off his oil lamp and rolled over, clearing not wanting to talk about it anymore -- but he was definitely thinking about it, and it plagued his sleep._ _

__***_ _

__Dean falsely felt a sense of security living in the cottage with his husband. That evening, he woke up to the sounds of floorboards creaking and pattering footsteps along the floor, seemingly approaching the bedroom. “Cas?” He whispered, voice deathly quiet. When that didn't wake him up, he nudged his husband’s hipbone and frowned deeply, clearly nervous and terribly afraid. “Cas, I hear something.”_ _

__Castiel mumbled something along the lines of “it's nothing” and rolled away from Dean to rest his weary, tired eyes. The floorboards creaked again, this time just outside of their room. Castiel was still asleep, and all Dean could do was stare as the door, which did not lock, silently creaked open. He was laying as stiff as a board, desperately trying to wake Castiel without making himself seen by squeezing his shoulder in a vice-like grip. When that didn’t work, Dean decided to move his hand under the covers, where he began to rapid-fire tap at Castiel’s arm. It was as if Dean was begging him “please wake up, please wake up, please wake up” until Castiel gently grasped Dean's hand. He didn't say anything, which made Dean wonder if Castiel even knew what was happening or that there was something horrible about to happen in their peaceful home._ _

__Dean felt like he was on the verge of hyperventilating like he did the first night they met and he found out he was marrying a man, but this time he was so damn terrified of making a noise that he could barely breathe. Castiel seemed calm despite the intruder, while Dean was a mess. This was out of one of his horror novels that he had once read, and deep down he knew that nothing good could come of this._ _

__Slow as ever, the footsteps creeped to Castiel's side of the bed, and Dean gripped Castiel tighter than before. Before the intruder could do anything, though, Castiel sprung himself up from the comfortable bed and tugged the man down by his shirt. Dean couldn’t see anything, so he quickly reached for the oil lamp and turned it on. Dim light flooded into the room and Dean held back a shriek as he saw Castiel strangling the life out of the stranger. He even went the extra mile to muffle the sounds of his choking by slapping a hand over the stranger’s mouth._ _

__Dean could only watch on in shock and disbelief, his mouth hung wide open and eyes even wider. “Cas I,” he stammered, unsure of what to do. He had never been in a situation like this before and he was visibly mortified. His husband just killed someone, and while it was out of self defense, it made Dean lose some trust in his husband. His safety blanket was ripped away from him and tore a hole in the blind faith he had developed for Castiel over the past month. How could he know that he wasn’t going to be strangled next?_ _

__Castiel held up his finger in a “shush” motion and carefully laid the man's body down on the floor. That's when Dean really started to panic. That man was there to kill them; judging by Castiel's reaction. And there were likely others if the creaking sounds he heard were any indication._ _

__“Put out that light and go out the window. Now,” Castiel whispered in an authoritative tone, his voice a low murmur. Dean nodded dumbly and tried to calm his breathing that seemed to get more and more out of control and ragged with each passing minute. He had the presence of mind to put his pants on, and Castiel helped him into a jacket and handed him a pair of shoes and a book randomly selected from Dean's pile of them, before he helped his husband out the window. He was so thankful that they were on the bottom floor and he didn’t have to jump down. Castiel slipped on pants and shoes as well; grabbing a coat and a sack of pre-packed cash before he slipped out the window after Dean; with no help needed._ _

__Dean was shaking like a leaf, clutching that book to his chest and hyperventilating despite his best efforts. He was also rubbing his thumb over his wedding ring, letting it spin around his finger since it was just a tad too big. “Calm down,” Castiel whispered, guiding Dean through the night by nothing but the white light of the moon. “We don't have time for you to panic. Keep it together, Dean.” He muttered, walking both faster and more stealthily like he had done this before. _He probably has,_ Dean thought. He guided Dean to a safer area with his warm hand on the small of his back. The same hand that he strangled a man with. _ _

__“You're fucking insane!” Dean burst out, quickly yanking away from him. “Y-y-you just killed a man. And now you're --” Castiel clamped his hand over Dean's mouth and they stood stiff for a moment. He couldn’t help but say something. Castiel was acting like nothing had just happened, which was a sign of a lunatic. Maybe Dean had married some crazy person who murdered people._ _

__“You're going to _shut up_ and walk into those woods. You hear me?” He seethed, and Dean found himself nodding along to his words, afraid to challenge him after what he had witnessed just a few minutes ago. The hyperventilating started all over again when there was a sudden gunshot from behind them that thankfully missed its targets. “Dean, now is when you run,” Castiel said, grabbing Dean by the hand and leading him into the woods. Behind them, the cottage began to go up in flames. Neither went back to try to save it. _ _

__Tall oaks towered above both of them, but they didn't exactly have time to look at everything. It all passed in a blur, or at least it did for Dean. Castiel lead him away from danger and time seemed to speed up as the night passed and they were still on their feet in the heavily wooded forest. Dean's lungs burned and his legs ached from running, but Cas wouldn't let them stop._ _

__The sun truly began to rise as they came across train tracks, and even then, Castiel wouldn't let Dean sit down or catch a wink. He just held Dean's hand as they walked beside the tracks. Who knew how long they had been on the run. Hours. And Dean was exhausted. God, all his things were likely a pile of ash -- along with the home he had grown to love. Luckily, the book he was holding contained the bookmark of the only picture he had of his mom. If Castiel was saddened by his own losses, he didn't show it. He just wiped the sweat from his brow and they trekked on. For hours. By the time a train began to go past them, it was well after noon. Dean was ready to sleep, but…_ _

__“C’mon, run!” Castiel ordered, tugging Dean with him as both began to sprint after the train. Castiel got Dean in first before finally climbing in himself and closing the sliding door behind them. He sat down and leaned against the wall, panting to catch his breath, while Dean sat on boneless legs beside him. He leaned on Castiel’s shoulder until his head began to droop and landed on his lap. Dean closed his eyes as Castiel combed his fingers through Dean's hair, and almost instantly, he was fast asleep despite the train’s loud chugging._ _

__Dean woke when the train began to slow. As his gaze traveled upward to his husband, Dean observed that Castiel didn't sleep a wink that entire time, probably keeping guard. It was a little admirable that he stayed awake to keep him safe. Maybe more than a little. He assumed it had been at least two or three hours since he fell asleep. It was impressive that they hadn’t been caught yet._ _

__“They will be checking all the train cars for stowaways. We have to climb out, now.” Castiel said quietly, his hand still tangled in Dean’s messy hair. He shifted a little to let sleepy Dean sit up from his lap._ _

__“Okay.” The Winchester murmured, picking up the book that had made it onto the dusty floor. He stood with Castiel's help and he weakly tugged open the large sliding door to the train car. Castiel waited until it slowed enough for them to safely jump out. He had Dean jump first, and he quickly followed. Dean landed funny and hurt his ankle before ultimately falling on his butt, but Castiel landed relatively okay with the sack of cash in inside coat pocket._ _

__Castiel helped Dean back to his feet, and together they walked away from the tracks and into… the city. People had booths of odd ends and trinkets, yelling at pedestrians as they walked by in the hopes of catching their attention. Their clothes were mismatched and filthy, and they didn't look much different from the two of them. Dean nearly fainted when he saw a man whose teeth had completely rotted away into yellow and black. He wasn't accustomed to the city, and the booth owners seemed to prey on that. When one wasn't worldly, they could sell a glass jewel that was worth mere pennies for a gold coin or two and no one would be the wiser._ _

__So they yelled at him, tried to get his attention over their competition. Castiel just wrapped his arm around Dean's shoulders and held him close, glaring as they walked by. Then they began to yell slurs and offensive words. Two men merely walking like that together… well, some people had objections that they made everyone else painfully aware of._ _

__Needless to say, they left the area quickly._ _

__***_ _

__Dean desperately wanted a proper bed to sleep in, but Cas said that Dean would rather not have a motel bed in this kind of town. It was a slum, really, and it wouldn’t matter whether or not he had a bed because the ground was just as filthy as the mattresses. Dean couldn't argue with him, since he had a good point and more experience with this sort of thing, and he didn't bring that particular idea up again. But he still complained. He had a right to, when he lost everything he ever owned just a few hours ago._ _

__“I'm not sleeping on the streets.” Dean said to his husband stubbornly. “Please Cas. I just want a bed for the night. I don’t care if it’s small or crummy. I don’t care if we have to sleep close, I just want a bed.” He went on. It was clear that he didn’t care about where he slept anymore; this was about something else. Dean merely wanted to have a room with a lock, or he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not after what could have happened to them._ _

__Castiel sighed deeply but nodded. He could understand where Dean was coming from. “I'll find us a bed, then.” He assured, feeling a twinge of hopefulness at the fact that Dean didn’t mind sleeping closer to him, but more distressed that they had to go through _this_ for Dean to finally dismiss personal space and accept that he wasn't going to violate him. He had hoped that he would get the chance for Dean fall in love with him, eventually. Now things looked dim. Still, their friendship did mean a lot to him. He tried to focus on that. _ _

__As night began to fall after a stressful day, wondrous circus music began to fill the air and it seemed to change the mood. The night sky was dark with rain clouds, every shop in town closed -- spare the tavern. It seemed that the circus radiated light and the smell of popcorn and tooth-rotting treats filled the air. Castiel lead them to it, looping an arm around Dean's waist, which made him uncomfortable for a moment, but once he got used to it, it comforted him in a strange way. He bought them tickets, despite Dean's reluctance. At the very least, it kept a roof over their heads for an hour or two. That's how Cas saw it. The tickets were rather cheap, and considering the weather, it was their best option._ _

__So they watched the mediocre circus act. Dean liked the trapeze portion, but felt awful for the underfed animals. The clowns didn't terrify him as much as they would have scared Sammy (God, did he miss Sammy), but they were still incredibly unsettling to him. Perhaps it was because of the night they had. That's what he chalked it up to, at least. A few of the acts, while according to Cas were still horrible to watch, made Dean intrigued and lean on the edge of his chair. There was some unrecognized talent in the circus._ _

__After the show, Castiel pushed his way through the crowd and tugged Dean with him, despite his quiet protests. He managed to snag the ring leader’s attention. “Excuse me,” Castiel said, looking to the man. “Do you run this circus, sir?”_ _

__The man chuckled and nodded, smiling at Castiel as though he were some amazed child who had just met their idol. “Yes I do. Did you enjoy the show?”_ _

__“It was interesting.” Castiel said with a faux smile. It would seem genuine, but Dean knew him well by now. “I was wondering; do you have a tent my friend and I may rent for awhile?” He asked, a hopeful note to his voice. Dean gaped at Castiel and instantly shook his head, but it didn't seem to matter what he thought, because he wasn’t the one with the money._ _

__The ringleader chuckled and was about to dismiss him. “I will give you two gold coins if we can travel with you for a few months. If we have a guaranteed place to sleep.” Castiel offered. The man's expression became surprised. “Deal.” He agreed. “I'll have my lion tamer show you to your quarters. I just --”_ _

__“I'll pay you at the end of our stay.” Castiel said bluntly. The man simply stared Cas down. “Half now, half later.” He bargained. Castiel caved and handed him a coin, and they were whisked away by the lion tamer to their new…home. Dean followed behind Castiel with his head bowed and his face red with shame as they entered a small tent near the animal pens. It smelled horrible. But they were given lukewarm popcorn and some peanuts to eat, so it wasn't all that bad. It had been a long day, and neither had eaten a thing._ _

__As they laid in the dirty, minuscule bed together, Dean pressed a closer than he normally did. Rather than turning away from Castiel and giving him the cold shoulder, Dean rolled towards him and tucked himself closer than he had ever been before. “You're like my guardian angel… Thank you, Cas.” He whispered out of sheer gratefulness. After a moment, he buried his face in Castiel's chest and shut his eyes, feeling a little safer. While the tent didn't have a lock, nobody knew them here, and the men who came for them had no way of finding them. So even while it was terrifying to see, Castiel had demonstrated that he was a badass and it was a _little_ comforting. Maybe more than a little. _ _

__“You're welcome, Dean.” The man replied, combing a reassuring hand through his hair. He would care for Dean for the rest of his life, that was what he had promised when they got married. Those were his vows. He couldn’t back out on his word, because that’s just who he was._ _

__When Cas realized that Dean was still not falling asleep, he sighed and cleared his throat. “The best cure for disappointment is a meal that’s still warm, remember?” He asked, knowing that Dean couldn’t forget him saying that in a million years._ _

__“Our first night together,” Dean said slowly, acknowledging it. Although peanuts and popcorn were not a nutritious nor warm meal, they were something. And something was always better than nothing. He found that he wasn’t disappointed with their situation. He was just relieved that he was still alive, breathing, and able to rest in Castiel’s strong arms. “I think you’re wrong, Cas. I don’t think the best cure for disappointment is a warm meal.”_ _

__“Oh? Enlighten me, Dean. What’s the cure?” Castiel asked, both of his eyebrows raised as he humored him, laying there on the bed with his husband._ _

__“You are. You’re the cure to my disappointment,” Dean answered after a moment, opening his eyes to glance up at him. “You make sure I'm safe and have food in my stomach, and you cared enough to make sure I got out okay. Hell, you cared enough to grab me that damn book.” He said with a soft chuckle, glancing to his copy of _Pride and Prejudice_. Before Castiel could say anything or disagree with what he had just told him, he leaned up and kissed him on the lips. Dean smiled shyly against their lips as Castiel seemed stunned, laying there with wide eyes and Dean’s lips pressed against his own. He pulled away after a moment and then resumed his position, resting his head on Castiel’s chest once more. A blush spread over his cheeks at what he had just done and he grabbed his husband’s left hand to play with the wedding ring on his finger. “I don’t need a warm meal, a nice bed, or a house to be happy when I’ve got you, Cas. I’m not looking for luxury. Just… somebody who cares about me.”_ _

__Caught off guard, Castiel’s lips twisted into a shy smile. He sighed contentedly and combed his fingers through Dean's hair. As much as he wanted to kiss his husband senseless right in this moment, he knew that would be a lot for Dean to work up to. He was happy with a peck on the lips. Very happy. “I suppose you’re right, Dean.” Castiel rubbed his hand over his back through their night full of rain, animals’ snores, and crickets’ chirps. Cas found that he had never wanted a life more than he did that night with the one who had married him by chance. “I love you, Dean.” Came Castiel's whisper._ _

__“I know.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there will be a part two. ;)


End file.
